Butterfly Diaries A teen on a quest to be a better writer

Category Archives: Poetry

Guts – 7/13/14

The stars drop silently

While our laughter screams through stale air

My neighbors have no right to complain

Why would people complain anyway

I deserve to be happy

I don’t understand

How we had seperate terrible evenings

But nights together so perfect

We refused to let them end.

I told you how you hurt me

I explained that my heart used to be whole

and you shattered it into a million stars.

I described the pieces as stars because

they were once beautiful

and are now burning away

leaving just darkness.

I shared my need to cut off my skin

hoping it would allow my heart to evaporate

and I wouldn’t be stuck

with a melted puddle in my ribcage.

We talked about pain for hours

and I had never felt so safe.

What is it about your hair

in a side pony

and a bang on the right

twisted with the arm of your glasses

that makes me forget the world?

Intoxicating my blood stream

while you intoxicate my mind

is just a recipe for disaster.

I forgot how to filter and for once

let shields down I didn’t know were there.

I knew you’d be scared of my insides

There’s a reason guts are only spilled

in horror movies.

I never meant to hurt you

Please understand

that without you in my life

I wouldn’t have guts to spill

Just tears watering my face

hoping they’d grow into something beautiful

so you’d love me again.

Numbers 2/17/14

In math we learned
that the space between
any two numbers
is infinite.
The biggest number
less than two
is undefined.
You can always add
another number
after the decimal.
That’s what loving
you is like.
Every smile
is another number
after the decimal.
I think I can’t
love you any more
but then
my heart
finds another number
greater than me
and less than
you.

Depressing Freewrite Thing 11/18/13

When Netflix stops to buffer or
Your heater suddenly turns off
When the music silences before going to the next song
Do you hear the buzz?
The wind is blowing through the treetops and I feel I’m laying on a dance floor under lower class poverty ridden Mexican women. They spin so fast, the edge of their skirts can touch the dreams they have for the future.
There’s a kitten I’m calling to. It’s cold and wet and I can help it but it doesn’t come. I wonder if that’s what my father feels like. He always called me kitten.
I left because I wanted to avoid that buzz.
Every time I’ve left it’s been to avoid the buzz.
I’m blasting Iris by the Goo goo Dolls but I can still hear it. It’s a steady buzz in my head, nine times louder than my heart beat.
I told them not to look for me and after two hours they haven’t. I forget that no only meant yes to him.
Rape is a funny thing. It’s as if he knew I’d be a bad person so found a way for consistent punishment. Endless punishment.
I got cold and I tried to run but the tree stopped me.
If I make it through the night, I’ll have to explain the cuts across my neck.
If I don’t, someone will find me when they miss the goal and their disk flies away.
They will never finish their game.
They will never hear the clink when the frisbee meets the metal basket.
Instead they’ll hear the buzz.

Connections 8/13/13

When a writer closes their eyes to go to a “happy place”

They don’t picture the lake, ocean, or grandma’s kitchen

When I want to be at peace, I recall all those I’ve seen

The girl with the demitasse and the constellation tattoos

Heart broken by a man who exchanged fists instead of kisses

Pens and paintbrushes became her life- taking pretty things and making them beautiful

The perky  six year old who collects fallen leaves to keep safe all winter

So when Spring comes around, he can bury them in the park

Keeping pretty things around for people to look at

The shy analytical barista with a beard and glasses

Who does long division on napkins during break

Only finding peace when stargazing with kids in the park

These people will never speak to me, or each other

But as a writer, I can connect them all

What place is happier then that?

Scared of Change 8/13/13

Faint light from lighters lead the path to our hangout
Layers of paint make the carved name in the mausoleum, invisible
The ground, once littered in hushed violets, now caked under trampled glass bottles
Kids come here when they want to find others like them-
Hating themselves, but scared of change.
Their heartbeats a riot, their minds chanting regrets like an anthem
I was told God is everywhere and I wonder why he slums where his name is cursed
Sometimes I think this is a monument of his failures and
He comes to find others like him-
Hating themselves, but scared of change.

An open letter to the guy with the “choose life” tattoo, that told me to kill myself

An open letter to the guy with the “choose life” tattoo, that told me to kill myself.

 

What would your first girlfriend- the one with the pretty white dress-think of you now?

“A fine upstanding man” her grandma tells her. “Solid Christian values.”

She never told her grandma about the time your hands slipped up her thighs

“We both know we’ll be married some day. We might as well do it now.”

She never told her grandma that her moans to God were prayers

“As long as you love me, I guess it’s okay.”

The day you graduated, she expected a proposal- Instead she got a kiss goodbye

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